


I, High-King

by BloodEarthAndInk



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 20:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7546221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodEarthAndInk/pseuds/BloodEarthAndInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his return from Thangordrim, Maedhros must readjust to living among his own people again, but slipping back into the role he once held proves more difficult than he had initally thought. Facing the pressing responsibility of acting as King of the Noldor -- and the question of weather he should truely be the one to do so -- feels easy compared to rebuilding his relationships with his brothers, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I, High-King

Stiff, that is how I would describe us all as we stood there, beside the waters of Mithrim, waiting in silence, the banners of Nolofinwë's house snapping in the wind. I had to squint my eyes against bright sunlight, diffusing through the cloud cover. My lips pulled back into a grimace, but I kept my gaze focused, facing straight ahead, on the growing shadow on the horizon. Chin raised, shoulders back, the dignity of my House kept me so, even as I felt my Uncle's men watching me.

It was thick in the air around them, though they dare not show it. Not, at the least, directly. The grim set to their jaws, the bright white of their knuckles as they griped their spear shafts, the way they narrowed their eyes as their gazes, too, turned towards the approaching dust cloud my brother's company kicked up- those all spoke loudly enough, however. They would have me gone.

Truth to tell, I do not blame them.

“And so it begins,” Beside me, Findekáno let out a long sigh. I turned back to him, and as our eyes met an almost weary smile flickered across his lips. He reached up, clasping my shoulder for a moment and giving it a sharp squeeze, “Are you sure you are ready for this? To return, back to...” he turned, gaze darting from the guard to the silhouette of my brother and his men, before looking back at me one more, mouth tugging to the side. “Well, _everything?”_

A short snort escaped me. As I shook my head, my gaze turned back on the horizon. “I can walk again, is that not enough?” I slid my eyes back towards Finno, looking at him from the corners of my vision, “I've long been returned to all of... _this_ in any case. Since you brought me back from Thangorodrim as a matter of fact.”

“Mmmm...” He crossed his arms over his chest, a frown tugging at his features. “Nelyo-”

The driving thunder of hoofbeats rose above my cousin's voice, cutting him off. Both of our gazes shot to the beasts and the neri astride them. All heaving muscle and smoke-like mist rising from their nostrils, the horses were pulled to a halt before us. They were a guard of four or five, in dully-shining mail, the star of the House of Fëanáro gleaming on their livery. My brother sat at their van.

Kanafinwë.

A sharp “Hail!” was called from the approaching party, and they puled to a stop before us. If the tension in the air had been thick before, by now it was nearly _suffocating._ I could not help but tense at the sight either.

My brother turned to Findekáno, looking down at him. He looked different than I had remembered, though I could not place quite why. A weariness I had never seen before? A tightness around his brow and mouth? Perhaps it was the strange formality and stiffness that seemed to radiate off of him as he spoke.

“Lord Findekáno.” He bowed his head, “I thank you for the care you have given my brother and I am grieved that I must cut our meeting short, ” Somehow, catching the glances between both groups of Noldor, I had doubted that, “But I feel you would agree that it would be best if we did not linger?”

Silence stretched on for a moment. My brother's abruptness was also new.

“Perhaps...” Findekáno glanced at me, “Take care of yourself.” He said, “And I expect to hear from you. If we can improve relations between our people...”

“I know, Finno. You take care as well.” A final nod passed between us, before I pulled off towards my brother and the men who followed him.

They had brought a horse with them for me, and I gazed back, guilt and shame gnawing at the pit of my stomach, but allowed them to help me up before we left.

When we came out of sight or sound of Nolofinwë's encampment, I turned towards my brother. “Do you _wish_ to provoke them?” I hissed.

He turned, blinking at me.

“They were forced to _eat_ their horses on the ice.” I remembered Turukáno saying the words, in one of his more bitter moments.

Makalaurë's lips thinned, and for a moment he glanced down. He quickly shook that aside however, staring straight on ahead of himself instead. His face was an icy mask. “I shall remember that in the future.” His only reply.

Silence stretched on between us, filled only by the beat of the horse's hooves against the ground. It was not how I expected my reunion with my brother to go, and I doubted he had expected those to be my first words either. Letting out a long sigh, I shook my head. “It is...good to see you again, Kano.”

He turned back, and blinked at me again. A certain... _warriness_ seemed to coat his actions, I realized. Hesitating for a moment, he finally said, “It is...good to have you back as well.”

“You are the only one here?”

“It seemed for the best.” His gaze crawled back over his shoulder, towards where we had come from, before he shook his head and sighed.

“I see...” Shifting in my horse's saddle I stared off into the distance again.

“Maitimo-”

I stiffened, “ _Maedhros,”_ Well-Formed Copper. Work hardened and strong. The correction came automatically to my lips, sharp and insistent. Even as I spoke it, I could still remember the flash of that knife. Thauron's mocking words, _“So you are called Maitimo...”_ How the steel had burned as it sliced through my flesh, from my lip, up to my-

I shook my head as though to shake the memories out. “My name is Maedhros. _Please.”_

Makalaurë blinked at me. “Maedhros...” He repeated. His brows drew together, but he said nothing more.

For a long while afterwards, I felt my brother's gaze lingering on me. Through grassy mead and shadowed forest. There were moments when the tension grew heavier, as though he were about to open his mouth and speak, but it always died as quickly as it had come. I attempted to ignore it. Sometimes I would try and get a word in, but it was tiring to push forward a conversation that went nowhere. It was only highlighted by the gentle and easy murmurings of the guardsmen around us.

Eventually, I finally let it go and the both of us turned to silence. I kept my eyes fixed on ahead. I could just picture Makalaurë, shaking his head, his lips pressing together and his eyes drawing inward as he struggled to find words. He hated not knowing what to say, always. He was the one with the clever tongue, after all. The storyteller, the bard, the poet. Fog-muffled hoofbeats and the distant murmur of the fortress up ahead were the only sounds to be heard, however. A shout of “Hold!” from the training ground.

Kano remained silent. A low sigh escaped him, and from the corner of my eye I saw him turn ahead of himself once more.

The chill of Mithrim seeped through my cloak. The shining water of the lake gleamed, sunlight striking off of it as a blade newly polished. As it fell off into the ground behind us and the gray blur in the distance grew into sharper focus against the trees, my grip twisted around the reigns of my horse. The leather bit into my palm, my knuckles drew up, tight against my flesh. Anticipation knotting in my stomach, sending a giddy buzz through my body, I saw the fortress gates coming to lance-like points piercing the sky, the moving figures of guardsmen at their posts, pristine mail- made by the finest smiths among the Noldor, never too far from a forge for repairs- glimmered in the daylight. And above it all flew the banners, snapping in the wind. The Star of the House of Fëanáro. I sucked in a sharp breath. I was back. Ilúvatar in Eä. I was _back._

Makalaurë cleared his throat beside me, and my eyes snapped over to him. His gaze drifted off to the swiftly approaching gates ahead of us, before winding their way back to me. For perhaps the first time since our reunion he managed something akin to a smile, albeit a rather weary one. “Home again...” he murmured. Wonder edged his words, as though he could not believe he himself were saying them. He looked upon me for a long while. Blinking, he his head jerked side to side, as he suddenly remembered himself. His smile thinned, gaze dropped, and he turned back ahead of himself once more.

“The others will be pleased to see you returned to us, Bother.” He said

“Yes, of course, as I will to see them.” I replied. My brows knit together as I watched my brother trot on ahead of me, whatever warmth he'd deemed to show mere moments before now evaporated. Suddenly, I became very aware of the other four guardsmen riding in our company. Setting my jaw, steeling my expression, I rode on.

Iron and wood rose above us as we approached the gate. “Who nears? Name yourself!” came the call from the watchtowers.

“Ai! And do you not know your own King when you see him?” Makalaurë shouted back up, “If nothing else, surely that shock of red hair would be enough to recognize him!”

It was only as he spoke the last words that I realized he was claiming the title for me. My eyes shot to my brother, and I found myself gnawing on the inside of my cheek. _King_. My time in Nolofinwë's camp and in Angband before had stolen the title from me, but, yes...I supposed I was.

 _King_. When last I had claimed such a title for myself I had led a legion of our men to their deaths.

“Lord Makalaurë! You've returned...with...” and here I could just imagine the nér's eyes now finally alighting on me, for the first time truly seeing who the companion traveling with my brother was. He called down the the men operating he gate, and it was lowered.

“Impressive work.” I murmured, my eyes tracing along the lines of the gate as we entered the fortress. “You've moved quickly.”

“Hmmh...” Makalaurë shook his head. His gaze remained fixed ahead of himself as we entered the fortress. “Thirty years. But...yes, perhaps...we had to.”

With those last words, silence settled between us once more. I drew my thumb along the edge of the reigns.

“Kano-”

“Come, First I shall show you to the stables and we can get the horses cared for, and then we can see you to your rooms. It would be best to get you settled in here as quickly as possible.”

I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from snapping at him, though I found myself glowering at the back of his head all the same. _“Makalaurë!”_

But he was already shrinking into the distance. Cursing under my breath I dug my heels into my horse's side and made chase after him.

My bones thrummed with the hard beat of my horse's hooves against the ground, my breath scraped against my throat. The wind kicked up my hair, it's chill slicing through my clothes. The sweaty heat of the horse beneath me warmed through my chest as I leaned froward.

The world sped past in a blur of green and gray, and my brother only grew nearer with the rising cacophony of voices as the first halls and grounds came into clearer sight.

Neri and Nissi in their brisk paces moved through the paths and alleys between halls and buildings of gray stone and grayer-looking wood. They called to one another, waving, or argued, their hands moving in sharp motions to match their words. Carts being led on the larger streets carried grain and fruits, other supplies brought in from, I imagine, whatever fields and farms had sprouted up around the fortress. The echoing strike of the hammer against steel from a nearby forge, and the constant tatter of masons at work, chisels against stone, reached my ears. It was a world of noise I had only tasted as traveled on the edges of Nolofinwë's camp, taking care not to draw too much attention to myself in an already precarious political situation.

I drank in the sights, the sounds. The cool air cleared my mind as I took in a deep breath. This was _life_ here, so much more so than in the silent confines of a Healing House.

That silence seemed to follow me, I soon realized. Nay, worse. A heavier, pinched silence, from before my time in Nolofinwë's camp. It fell as their gazes came to land on me, and they stared, eyes widening, freezing in their work.

The more collected among them bowed their heads, brought their fists up and pressed them against their hearts as my brother and I passed. I _knew_ these people, by face if not name. They were the ones my father most trusted. Smiths who had worked with him or apprenticed under him. Scholars who had argued and agreed with him, who _I_ had studied under. Warriors who had fought alongside my family.

And now they looked at me as one who had returned from the dead.

That refreshing clarity of mind I had first felt became an icy chill. My mouth set into a grim line and I moved along, now bringing my horse up to Makalaurë's side.

My breath scraped against my throat, coming in shallow bursts. Before I could get a word in, Makalaurë was turning towards me. His brow furrowed as he looked me up and down, deep frown lines etching themselves over his face.

“You are going to kill yourself.” He said, “Look here, your shaking. Stop pushing. Slow down.”

I only noticed then the tremor in my hand. I tangled it into my horse's reigns, forcing myself to hold steady. A twisting spike of pride rose in my chest.

“Perhaps you might try not riding as though you were attempting to escape an orcish ambush then?” I snapped. I found I was sitting straighter, shoulders pushed back and head raised. Who was this, my _younger brother,_ to speak to me as though I were a misbehaved child? And after what else but his obvious attempts to avoid conversation with me the entire ride back here!

He blinked, eyes widening for a mere moment, before shooting me a glare and turning his horse aside. A sharp click escaped the corner of his mouth. “This way.” He grunted.

Our ride was continued in silence. I forced my gaze to remain ahead, ignoring the curious eyes that still stared after me. Once we had arrived at the stables one of the men came over to offer me a hand down. I waved him off, before attempting to swing down myself. I managed to get one foot down before it began to slide out beneath me. My stomach lurched. Scrambling to right myself I stumbled backwards as I made my landing. My muscles held ridged, and I gritted my teeth. The other two neri were smart enough to pretend not to have noticed, though I could not help but see how much closer the guard who had been near my brother not moments before was to me. I snorted, shaking my head as I fixed my eyes upon Makalaurë. His eyes flickered back to me as he swung himself down, but otherwise he gave no sign of notice.

_Thank Eru for small mercies...._

It was a wide wooden building that stood before us, a fence peaking out from behind it giving hint to the field in the back where the horses were exercised. Faint snorts and whinnies played on the air, hanging there with the scents of horse and hay.

Distantly I was aware of Makalaurë calling out to the Stable-master, but my attention was taken by the sight of a figure, peering our from behind the slatted doors towards us. Small, they could have been no more than a child by my guess. The figure hesitated for a moment, before creeping out, following after a couple of other stable-hands, into the sunlight. A boy, I could now see. Older than I had assumed, with the gangling limbs of adolescence. He walked as though he were not fully comfortable in his own body and his dark hair fell loose from his braid, covering his eyes. Despite his awkwardness, I felt an odd twist of familiarity looking upon him. Around his eyes, the line of his nose, the set of his jaw...there was something...

I was not the only one to have noticed the boy as he came towards us. As the horses were taken away, I could not help but watch my brother. When he saw the boy, the tension in his muscles seemed to dissipate, and his expression warmed, the corner of his lips quirking upward. “Working as a stable boy now, are you? Ai! And what your Atar would say!” he teased, absently turning to the guardsmen and dismissing them with a wave.

The boy sniffed, crossing his arms and jutting his chin forward, as though insulted. That pang of familiarity only struck me all the harder now, and I could only watch in utter bafflement.“Then he may take it up with Uncle Tyelco if he is so inclined.”

My eyes widened and I found myself staring. _Tyelpe?_ No this was not...no, time may have stood still for me upon Thangorodrim but surely...no...this boy was far too old to be the child _I_ remembered!

The air of arrogance he carried with him dropped in an instant, as though from the beginning feigned. An imitation of his father I now realized. Now replaced by and almost hungry curiosity he leaned forward. He managed at the least to remember himself far enough to bow his head to Makalaurë before turning his eyes on onto me.

It was that same stare as from the others. As though I were more than myself. I could feel his eyes tracing over the scars carved into my face, wandering down to my wrist. Though I shifted my right arm out of his line of sight, I managed at least not to turn away.

“Uncle...?” Tyelperinquar murmured.

I snorted, “From the way you stare I would think not! You look as though you've just seen Tata walking out through the mists of time!”

The boy had at least the decency to blush, then. “Ai, I did not mean...I forget myself, forgive me.”

I quickly waved him off. Heaving a sigh, I shook my head. “Eru, leave it!”

He blinked, but slowly, nodded.

Before a heavy silence could settle over us, Makalaurë cleared his throat. “You spoke of your Uncle, where is he then?”

Tyelpe seemed all too glad for the change of subject, and the chance to turn away, for which I could not help but feel a twinge of guilt for. “Deep in conversation with his horse, the last I saw of him.” he said, “If he did not hear even you it would not surprise-”

He broke off when, as if on cue, an all-too-familiar voice cut through the air.

“ _Tyelpe!_ Eru dammit, now where have you gotten off to?”

All three of us turned as an elf, tall and well muscled, his hair braided back into a silver rope stepped out to greet us.

_Turkafinwë._

His eyes swept over the field surrounding the stables, his eyes brightening as they landed on us and he took in what he was seeing. With a sharp breath, he took a step back as he saw me. _“Maitimo...”_ he mouthed the word silently to himself, before blinking, a grin suddenly breaking across his face. “Maitimo!”

I winced, my nails scraping against my palm and my stomach twinging at the name. I did not have long to dwell however, for in the next moment I found myself stumbling back, nearly topped over as two strong arms swept me up into an embrace.

“Ai! Tyelco!” I said

“Do _try_ not to brake anything, Tyelco. We've only just got him here.” Kano was drawling.

Tyelcormo's laughter rang in my ears and I could not help the chuckle that escaped myself. I clapped him on the back, and he pulled away, shaking his head.

“ _Eru,_ I had known your return was to be today of course, but... _you're back!_ _Eru,_ you're back!”

“So I am.” the corners of my lips were pulling into a wry smile, and my gaze swept over our camp from here. “If back it could be called, in any case. So much is different here...”

Tyelcormo gave a thoughtful hum. “Yes,” He murmured, I could feel his eyes tracing over my form, and when I turned back I caught his gaze lingering on the wrist of my right arm. I bit my tongue but refused to wince. Even he, who had given me the warmest welcome I had received since coming here!

I twitched my arm back under my cloak, and he blinked, clearing his throat. “Ah, right.” Tyelco pressed his lips together, nodding to himself. Jerking his head back up to meet my eyes again, the spark that had lit his eyes brightened once more, “Well, come then, Kano will have been wanting to show you to your rooms I expect?”

I gave a short grunt.

“Tyelco-” Kano was beginning. Tyelcormo just waved him off.

“He'll be busy getting everything in order to be handed over to you once you've settled in. I am sure he will not mind if someone else actually sees to the actually settling in part for him, right? Right, of course he won't.”

I glanced back to Makalaurë. He looked as thought he were about to say something, but then thought better of it, raking a hand through his hair before waving the both of us off. The tension that seemed strung through his muscles since we had first reunited seemed to return to him as our eyes met, but he quickly turned his gaze away and began walking forward, on ahead of us. “Go!” He called as he passed us, not even glancing back over his shoulder, “I do have much to do yet. Better for you to see to him, Tyelcormo.”

My brows knit together as I watched him, “Kano-” But too late. I was left in the hands of my third-born brother.

“Right then.” Tyelco turned back, and my gaze followed his to Tyelperinquar. The boy had watched the entire exchange, and now looked as though he were considering following us farther. “Tyelpe, go, find your Uncles then. Tell them he's back.”

The boy nodded, shooting off towards the main halls of the fortress. And then Tyelco turned his attention onto me.

“Ready then?”

I sighed, “Let's go.”

And with those words, we set off, traveling along the same paths I'd just watched my nephew disappear down. Tyelco spoke leagues a minute, weather to actually catch me up on the events since my capture or merely to fill my taciturn silence I am sure even he could not rightly say. More the latter as time passed, I suspect.

Meanwhile I remained preoccupied by all that surrounded me. Here it stood, a bustling fortress near as alive as Tirion itself, and built within a _fraction_ of the time the old city had been! Ah, but who would expect less? Disavowed and exiled as we were, we remained Noldor.

The things that had always characterized our people still remained, even after all that we had been through. The same stubborn determination, the same need to build and create and learn, the same fiery temperaments...the very same arguments threading themselves through the air.

And I was to lead them...

“...still cannot believe Kano would bar me from going. Surely, after all, your own brothers would be a more welcome sight than a couple of nameless, faceless guardsmen, yes?” Tyelco was saying as I finally managed to catch up with his line of- ai, I could say conversation, but _monolouge_ seems the more fitting term.

 _Welcome sight._ Despite myself I snorted.

“Hrmm, what's this?” Tyelco quirked a brow, his gaze flickering away from the road head to look up at me. “You are not saying you would be unhappy to see us?” his fingers twitched at his side. “are you, dear brother?”

Sarcasm laced his words, but for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker behind his eyes. Just what it was, I could not tell though.

Without even turning from the road I waved the words off with a snap of my wrist. Silent for a moment, I pressed my lips together, letting out a long breath, before turning to more fully face my brother, “ _My_ reaction would be where your fears should lie the least. Nolofinwë's people on the other hand...”

“Bah! Nolofinwë!” At the very sound of our Uncle's name, my brother seemed to relax, “Whatever guard he sent out with you would not be foolish enough to break this peace between us. He is cautious enough to ensure _that.”_

I tilted my head back, eyeing my brother for a long moment. “Hmmm...” Shaking my head I turned my gaze back to the road ahead of us. _Whoever mentioned it would be Uncle's people who would break this peace?_ I could not help but think.

Tyelco let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Enough about them. I could lock myself in a room with Kano all day if I wished to brood over the matter of Nolofinwë and his followers! _You're back_ , that is the important part, is it not?”

“If it were not for 'Nolofinwe's followers' I doubt I would be standing here to have this conversation with you...” I found myself murmuring, the words escaping me before I fully realized what I was saying.

Tyelco was, for the first time in out entire encounter, silent. I turned back to him, only to find him blinking, as if stunned by the sunlight. He opened his mouth to speak, before closing it again. His thumb flicked against his fingers, beginning to curl into themselves.

Silence reigned over the both of us as we walked, the incresingly distant murmur of the bustling crowds behind us the only sound.

“Tyelco, I-”

“I would have stormed Angband _myself_ to see you back here with us. We all would have. If Makalaurë hadn't stopped us, Moryo and I-” He cut himself off with a sudden jerk of his head, staring forward once more. “It doesn't matter. We didn't.”

More silence.

“I wouldn't have wanted you to.” Even to my ears, the words sounded strangely hollow.

My brother seemed to agree. “You say, now that your down from the bloody cliff face.”

I _did not_ want him – or any of the others – to risk themselves. I _didn't._ Heat rose like bile within me. The sudden desire to smack sense into Tyelco's thick skull – Eru, to smack him in general – twitched at my fingers. I clenched my fist, though, nails digging in to my palms as I pinned my arms to my side. “Don't be an idiot.”

My brother sucked at the inside of his cheek, eyes darting towards me in a side-long glance as he released his breath with a sharp click. What was that, in the turn of his lips and the way his gaze seemed to roll over mine, never quite meeting it? Disbelief? Wariness _?_

It twisted at my gut. I let out a long breath, clenching my teeth. _**Thrice damned**_ _idiot._

Tyelcormo broke his gaze, turning back to the building ahead, now looming over us with it's gray walls and arching doorway, entrance shut with a thick door of oak and iron. My brother shouted up and as we approached the door swung open. The clinging chill of the air outside seemed only to lessen slightly as we passed the threshold, shadows deepening as sunlight was replaced by torches and the pale blue glow of Atar's lamps.

“Your room is down this way – Kano insisted on having it built while we were fortifying our position. Come.” Tyelcormo said, waving me onwards, down a forking corridor to the left. He glanced back for a brief moment. As our eyes met I attempted something of a smile. Idiot he may have been, but the tension that lay between us now was only more wearying on an already long day. The peacemaker, as always. I could have almost rolled my eyes at the idea, and snorted at the injustice of it. There seemed at least one role I slid into easily.

He gave a pause, then a grunt, accompanied by a short shake of his head as he turned back ahead. I would take it.

“Holding out hope for some miraculous return?”

Tyrlcormo sucked on his teeth. “Well, You're _here_.” Shaking his head he went on, “Perhaps he was planning on a rescue, eventually. He refused to call himself 'King.'”

“Mmmm...”

“Or perhaps he was that deep in mourning and denial. This way.”

We stopped as Tyelcormo opened the door, and gestured for me to enter. The room was stark, sparsely furnished, a bed in one corner, on the wall adjacent to that a window. Bare floor, a desk pushed up against the far wall, and hanging above, a tapestry depicting the heraldry of our House. My eyes did a quick sweep over the room, and were drawn to a space next to the desk.

A tall shelf stacked with books. I strode towards it, and soon was running my hands over so many old, familiar volumes, bound in a rainbow of leather, stamped and embroidered with swooping tengwar and sarati. These were...

“Those are all of them, yes? Your books? Kurvo cared for them, found them going through your one of your chests. Seemed a bit impractical for you, if you had asked me-”

I shot Teylcormo a glare over my shoulder, but he merely smirked, rising his hands in a sign of peace. “You know, both Kano and Kurvo gave me that same look when I said that? The resemblance is uncanny.”

I snorted, turning back to the shelf and pulling down a blue-bound volume, it's title woven in gold thread along the spine. “you've found your humor again, I see.” I said.

“Yes, well...” Tyelco snorted, “Anyway, We spent yesterday putting them in here, Kurvo and I, I mean.”

“Which is to say, Kurvo spent the afternoon barking at him after he got bored and started throwing things up there in whichever order he pulled them off the stack, before finally kicking Tyelco out.”

At the sound of that drawling voice, I turned. Moryo stood there, arms crossed and smirking, and beside him stood Ambarussa.

“Oi!” Tyelco snapped, “what was that you just-”

“Ai, you heard me.” Moryo cut in, waving Tyelcormo off before turning his attention back to me, eyes raking over me for a moment. “Tyelpe ran off to fetch his father. How long it will be before he can manage to drag Kurvo out of the forge is anyone's guess.” He said, before he turned to our youngest brother and dropped his voice. “Told you the bastard was too bloody stubborn to die.”

Ambarussa just stood there, staring at me as though he didn't truly believe I was there. As if he refused to believe it. He held himself stiffly, almost edging away from me, and hesitated.

“Pityo...” I began, My brows drew together and I took a wary step forward. On some level I had expected the stares and reactions of the others, but this was unlike all of those. And from one of my own _brothers_ as well....

As with the others, his eyes roved over me, and by instinct as much as anything now, I found myself twitching my arm beneath the folds of my cloak. Pityo's eyes fell onto it, but strangely he seemed almost to relax upon the sight of what was left of my wrist. His gaze turned up to meet mine and finally he spoke.

“So you really are here. This isn't a-” He cut himself off, a grin breaking across his face, before he came running, grabbing me in an embrace. My arms wrapped around him and I ruffled his hair, as I had done so often when he was younger, with both he and...

A sharp pang lanced through me. Suddenly my arms felt far emptier than they should have.

I cleared my throat as Pityo stepped away. Our eyes met and I managed a small smile for him. He ducked his head, muttering “It is... good to have you back.”

“Hmmm....” I nodded, finding myself unsure of how to respond.

From his place by the door, Moryo cleared his throat, breaking the silence that threatened to settle over the room before it had a chance to begin. His gaze drifted over me as he strode forward, appraising. His eyes darted from my missing hand, back up, to my face- and, I could imagine, tracing over the scars crossing over it.

“Maitimo.” He said, stopping just before me and raking his eyes up and down my form once more. A pause. “You look terrible.”

My eyebows shot up. I could feel both Ambarussa and even Tyelco staring.

I watched Moryo's lips slowly curl into a languid smirk, his eyes glinting, as though _daring_ me to catch offense.

I had to fight myself, feeling my own lips twitch upwards to match my brother's smile. I strode forward slapping my arm around his shoulders and pulling him towards me in a quick embrace, before shoving him off and slapping him upside the head. “ _Bastard.”_ I muttered, rolling my eyes.

He snorted, “You would expect no less. At least _I_ was honest about it.”

I could only shake my head again. He wasn't wrong, exactly, and Moryo's dependable bluntness was almost refreshing. Gesturing towards the bed I invited my brothers to sit, “...That is, unless you have more pressing matters to attend to?” I added, remembering how Kano had rushed off earlier.

“Moryo sent up for food and wine from the kitchens on our way.” Ambarussa said, as he settled himself on the edge of the bed, “I feel confident in saying you'll be stuck with us for a while.”

“Of course he did...” I replied the words coming out a sigh.

“Ai, lay off him, Nelyo. You are returned to us, if this be no time for celebration, then when?” Tyelco said as he dropped himself next to Ambarussa. Moryo gestured a hand towards Tyelco, giving a short nod in agreement as he settled himself against the wall, leaning up against it before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hmmm....” I shrugged, a smirk crossing my features as I conceded my defeat.

I pulled out the chair from under my desk and settled in it, letting the conversation unfold around me. The sounds of my brother's voices again, the mere presence of their company....this I had never expected to experience again. It was enough for me to bask in it for the moment.

~*~

 

It was dark when I heard the door creek on it's hinges. The flickering light from the fireplace mingled with the steady blue glow of the lamp over my desk. I'd spoken to Kano earlier- If it could be called such, as much as he still avoided me- and had him bring up the latest reports from in and around the fortress. Our men, caught in a scuffle against Morringotto's forces, food stores nearly depleted after the last winter....

My mind could only drift back to the prosperity we had known on Valinor. _Under the care of the Valar_.... I could imagine Findarato pontificating in his own well meaning way. Mentally I spat at the idea, throwing myself back in my seat and shoving away the mess of parchment before me. _By our combined efforts and skills. As a united people we could be so much more...._

The icy stares my cousins' people had given me even as I left, returning to the side of Mithrim claimed by my family, my House, still remained burned in my memory. Facing this situation I could but _laugh._ Eru, we were doomed!

My bitter laughter died as another sound crept in on the silence. Someone clearing their throat. I turned, jerking upright as my eyes traced over the figure standing by the doorway.

Hair pulled into a thick rope down his back, that same stubborn set to his jaw and strong line of his nose- his sharp features cut out by the flickering firelight- even his height was the same. The corner of his lips curled into a smirk.

“You look as though you've seen a ghost.” Kurvo said, stepping forward.

I waved him off quickly, feeling my face heat despite myself. I might as well have! Had it truly been that long that I had forgotten? Or had I never had the opportunity to notice before? Eru, he really _did_ look like him...

I shook my head turning my attention back to my desk, if only to hide my face more than anything else. “You took your time in getting here.” I finally said, shuffling though the reams of inventory Moryo had taken.

“I'd just arrived back, I was running our riders through a training exercise when you returned. Tyelperinquar only just found me to tell me.”

“I see.” I fell silent here, my fingers playing along the edge of a sheet of parchment. As I pressed my lips together I turned back towards my brother, “He is...older than I remember him. Well. That is to say-”

“I know.” Kurvo snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned up against the wall. “When Atar warned me that I should cherish these years, that he would grow more quickly than I expected, I do not think _this_ was what he had in mind...” Bitterness edged his words, and for an instant his brow creased, lips pursing together as his face pinched.

Before I even had a chance to respond, however, it was gone. His eyes were tracing over my desk, and landed on the corner of it. His hand darted over to the book I'd pulled from the shelf earlier, and he took it up , beginning to flip through it. “This one...” He murmured.

“Mmmm? Ai, yes...” I shook my head, spinning my quill away from me, my eyes tracing up the side of my desk, towards the shelves and scrolls resting there. Absently I pulled one down, squinting at Kano's illegible scrawl as I spoke. “My Thindarin is rather unpolished yet, and...” I shook my head again, merely trailing off and falling silent.

“So you dig up Atar's treatise on it's development?” Kurvo snorted, “No one can deny you are his son...”

“Hmmm, yes....” My lips twitched into a frown, and I squinted more closely at the words before me.

Behind me I heard Kurvo move. He set the book back into it's corner on my desk, moving further into the room. I watched him from the corner of my eyes as he paced around to my other side, peering over my shoulder. The weight of his gaze made me shift in my seat. I pulled closer to my desk, feeling myself sitting straighter, suddenly so self-conscious of myself as I worked.

“Is there something you want?” I finally snapped, spinning around on him.

My brother stared back at me, brow creasing as he blinked. “I had hoped...” He said slowly, carefully choosing his words, “To speak with my brother again. To welcome him back to us after...what? Thirty years where for all we knew he was dead?”

My gaze drew inward, A crawling heat sunk down through my chest. “Ai...” Drawing my hand up through my hair I shook my head. “Then speak. I feel like a student at his lessons with you hovering over my shoulder like some gadfly of a tutor.”

“You seemed to be struggling.”

“I wonder sometimes if Kano _tries_ to make his writing impossible to decipher.”

Kurvo snorted, “It would not surprise me. What was it he said once...”

“My words are meant to be heard! To be _sung!_ To grow and change with each telling! To chain them, and petrify them in ink on parchment? You would have me _kill_ them!” At the last words my eyes boggled in indignant shock, and I finished off with a dramatic flourish of my hand. “At least, “ I continued , settling back into my seat, “It was something of the like.”

“Right...” He shook his head smirking, and surprisingly enough, even I found a small smile touching my lips as well. A sigh passed between us.

“You finished it.”

Kurvo's eyebrows shot up.

“Atar's treatise, I mean.” I reached back, tapping my fingers against the hard cover of the book. “I...recognized your hand as I looked through it.” Cramped and precise, it was impossible to miss, especially compared to Atar's writings, unable to resist added florishes, and scribbling in extra notes or experimental tengwa in the margins. The words had blurred before my vision.

“Right. That.” He turned away pacing over to my bookshelf and back, his eyes scanning over the volumes layed out there. “Well. It could not be left, not with the work already done...and no one else seemed more fit to the task.”

“My, we think highly of ourselves.” I teased.

He turned back to me. His gaze flickered inward for a moment, lips pressing together. A shrug was his only answer, before he shook his head and swept back over to my side.

“Atar's shadow is...not an easy one to live under.” He leaned over my desk, eyes scanning over the scroll I was still struggling with.

“We survive.” I murmured. “Somehow.”

“We will _thrive.”_

“Like toadstools?” I snorted, as I shooed him off. Kurvo remained stubbornly where he stood however, ignoring me.

“You _are_ having trouble with this...” He murmured, “You truly cannot read...” His gaze turned up towards me for a moment, before he shook his head and pushed away from my desk.

“ _Kurvo...”_

“You are King of the Noldor now, Maitimo-”

I grit my teeth. _“Maedhros.”_ I snapped.

He went on, now pacing through the room, waving me off, “Maedhros. You are Atar's heir, you are to take his position, and if you cannot even _read –”_

“I can well enough.” I insisted, trying to ignore the sinking feeling building in my gut.

“Well enough!” He rolled his eyes. “No. But I will see to it...”

_“Kurvo!”_

He finally stopped, looking back over to me, blinking owlishly.

I ran my hand over my face, pinching the bridge of my nose. A long sigh escape me. “Kurvo Leave me now.” I murmured. “I...have had a long day.”

My brother hesitated, though only for a moment, before bowing his head and striding out the door.

~*~

A week passed. In that time I remained mostly to myself, buried up to my neck in records and reports as I attempted to reacquaint myself with the workings of the fortress. From gray, misty dawn until a depth of night that shrouded the corridors in silence I worked. My brothers would attempt to convince me to join them for meals- _“It is your place as King to at least be_ _ **seen**_ _by your people...”_ So spake Kurvo- But for the most part I had my food brought up to me. Better than to have those eyes on me.

Better than to feel their _expectations._ That _I_ would lead them through this war, through the prosperity and peace they had known on Valinor! That I would be their Noble and Just King, a worthy heir to Finwë! That I could fill my fathers role and inspire them, light fire in their blood and awaken a force that could tumble down the gates of Angband itself. That I could _be_ that very force...

 _You are a craven. A coward. These people seek a leader and you shy away from that? Are you of the house of Fëanáro or are you not?_ My pen would hover over my parchment as the words slithered from the back of my mind. But I could still feel it. The anticipation as we waited to parley with our foes, ready to shove a knife in Morringotto's back the moment he would inevitably do the same to us. The roar that cut through the air the moment his forces came pouring out. That moment between heartbeats where time stood still. Black smoke and the stench of burning flesh. The screams of dying men and horses, running from Balrogs, like living pillars of flame, heads like skulls, wrapped in flicking writhing shadows. The ground slick and muddy beneath my feet for all the spilled blood. My comrades, _my people_ falling and dying all around me, even as we fought, desperately, like caged animals. The world was a blur around us. Only one thought pushed us on, _fight, kill,or die._ My breath scraped against my throat, my flesh _burned._ The lash of a balrog's whip, cut through the air. Each time like another stopped heartbeat. I was flung back, a scream wrenched from my throat. The world went dark.

The weeks- months? years?- in Angband's dungeons. They blurred together, coming as waves of agony and torment followed by those precious few hours reprieve. Thauron and his Master would heal me so that they could begin again the next day, while I sat there in the dark, the memory of old pain still haunting me as I anticipated what was to come. My thoughts were fevered and wild.

But there was always one. _They are all dead. They followed_ _ **you**_ _,they trusted_ _ **you**_ _and now you are all that remains._

My stomach twisted itself into knots. Shaking my head, hard enough that I might actually be trying to physically remove the memories, I dropped my quill. I drew my hand over my face. _Damn it. Damn it. Eru curse it all._

My head was pounding. A pinched, throbbing knot was beginning to form behind my eyes. Pushing myself away from my desk I stood, throwing my cloak over my shoulders as I strode out of my room.

I needed...I needed a moment. Just to clear my mind.

The air was cool against my face and the sun was bright. I'd made a point of it to avoid my brothers on my way out, and to those I did pass I gave a short nod and a grunt of acknowledgment to before moving on. I was not sure where I was going. Not far, I knew, but for a good while I wandered. I kept to back roads and alleyways, away from the larger crowds of people. I didn't want their attention at the moment. Didn't need it. I wished for peace. For quiet.

The susserus of their distant speech was enough to silence my thoughts as I walked, head down and arms folded behind my back. The taste of Mithrim's waters hung heavily on the air. There was...peace here, of a sort. I could forget, or imagine for a moment that this was something else. Somewhere else.

A bitter chuckle rose at the back of my throat at the thought. Only a fool lied to himself. And only a fool would think there _was_ peace here. The awareness of the other camp across the lake was at the back of everyone's mind, mine not least of all. You could hear it in the undertones to my bothers' speech, the things they avoided talking about, the very way when they spoke of our family's war against Morringotto they emphasized the fact that we were _on our own._ The tension between our two houses lie like one of the strings on Kano's harp.

And what was more...

My eyes traveled up, across the high beams of our fences, towards the north and east. Thick heavy clouds, like a tempest brewing, but of _smoke_ marred the sky. My stomach twisted and my hand – the phantom of a hand, once there, now but a memory that still haunted me – curled in on itself, as though gripping a sword that was not there.

Iron scraped against iron. The rattle of chains from a nearby smithy. I shook myself, my movements tight and forced as I turned and moved back towards my rooms.

I shut the door behind me with a near silent click. Solid oak gave me some support, some visage of stability as I pressed my head against it. _What is the matter with you? You think to lead your people against Morringotto like_ _ **this?**_

Instead of fear, I felt a blaze of heat rise up within me at the thought. The bastard who had Killed my family – my grandfather, my _father –_ who had lain waste to my men, chained me to a mountain, tormented me in ways unspeakable...

Who had taken my hand.

The hand that remained balled into a fist. I opened my eyes, glowering as I pushed myself away from the door. _His head would be mine._

It was the same fire I had felt after Atar died. _When you led those men to their deaths..._

I paced to the other side of the room, staring out the window. My oath, my anger, had led me in that choice. No. I could not make that mistake again. I had one cause to devote myself to. My Oath or My People...

I knew what was to be done.

Striding over towards my desk with new purpose, I stopped only once I saw the glinting dome of glass resting upon it. _Tell me if it is in need of adjustment_ , scrawled in a note resting just beneath it. Kurvo's hand.

My fingers danced across the smooth surface of the reading stone for a moment. I hesitated.

My brothers would surely disown me for this.

Pulling out my chair I seated myself. Snapped a piece of parchment down before myself and dipped my quill in the ink.

I would have time to worry about that later.

I finished my letter and summoned a messenger before me.

“I need to to deliver this for me.” I said, handing off the folded parchment.

“Yes, my lord. Who am I taking it to?”

“My Uncle. Lord Nolofinwë .”

He was silent for a moment. “...Pardon?”

“Lord Nolofinwë.” I repeated, “This will not be a problem, will it?” I quirked an eyebrow, attempting to put on the same authority in my look and bearing that my father carried with him, even as I did the thing he would least approve of.

The messenger hesitated a moment longer. “No, my lord.” the words finally came, before he turned on his heel and left.

~*~

“You _what?!”_ A chair crashed to the ground, knocked over by the sheer force of Tyelcomo leaping up.

 _“_ Ilúvatar in _Eä,_ _Ilúvatar in Eä._ _Are you mad? Did your brain_ _roast_ _beneath Arien's light? Sweet_ _Eru_ _, Maitimo..._ _”_

I winced as Moryo forgot himself and used that name once more. Both he and Tyelcomo were fighting to be heard over one another, their anger not unexpected, the twin forces of their fury only causing me to sigh and lean all the more heavily against my desk.

Beside Tyelcormo, Kurvo remained silent, his steady gaze held on me. Sitting rigidly still, the color in in face gone, a mask of imperious impassivity not able to cover the burning scorn and betrayal that shone in his eyes. He looked both as like and unlike Atar as he ever had.

“Bother- Brother, _calm_ yourself. I am sure Nelyo cannot mean it as you interperate it...” Ambarussa was reaching out for Moryo, trying to pull him back into his seat- he too had risen, albeit not as dramatically as Tyelco. Eru. The one brother _most_ sympathetic to me and even he could merely refuse to believe what he had heard, rather than _support_ it! I should not have expected otherwise, I _didn't_ , not in the depths of my heart...

Makalaurë had not even come.

I did not send for him a second time, as I realized with a sinking feeling in my gut that waiting any longer for him would prove fruitless. This was no official council, merely a warning of my plans before I made the real announcement, and one of the others could tell him. My brother had already made it clear how much he wished to avoid me.

With a bitter smirk and a finger pressed to the bridge of my nose, I just shook my head. “I am afraid you are wrong, Pityo. I mean exactly as I say. The Throne of the Noldor is to pass to Nolofinwë. _While_ I live. As soon as possible, preferably.”

“You cannot-” Tyelcormo again.

I fixed him with a look like iron. “It is _my_ authority, and my responsibility to do with as I see fit! More than half of my own people – and do not _dare_ say that those who follow Nolofinwë are not my people – would rather see him as King to begin with.” Shaking my head, I stood, “We are at _war_ , if you will not forget. Not against Nolofinwë and his folk, but against _Moringotto_. We need to be united now, not separated.”

“And you cannot unite us?” Carnistir balked, “What is this? You turn from a challenge like a coward? Are you or are you not a Son of _Fëanáro_?”

“This is _how_ I unite us!” I snapped, “And what _bigger_ challenge than to drive the idea of compromise into the thick skulls of my brothers!” I groaned then, running a hand over my face in frustration. “Leave me.” I said after a moment's silence, “My decision is made, and your actions seem only to be made to dissuade me-”

“Because is is a fool's decision-”

“ _Go. Now.”_

As I turned back to my brother I was met with the burning brand of Moryo's glower as he and Tyelcormo stormed from the room. Ambarussa cast a glance back at me as he left.

And Kurvo remained.

 _“Kurufinwë-”_ I began.

“Atar would not approve of this, Maedhros.” He stood, now approaching me fast with each word, “ _Nolofinwë?_ If you cannot handle being our leader then pass the throne onto someone who you know-”

“Nolofinwë is a perfectly capable leader, and is far more proven than I. First in Valinor, then again across the ice.” I pushed the anger from my voice, but that left the words no softer. “And I am in no doubts about my own abilities as Lord.” A lie I knew, but one I would never admit to my brothers. Especially here, especially now. “But my focus lies elsewhere, as yours should as well.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “My _focus_ is on upholding my father's legacy.”

“And mine is on _retrieving_ it.” I met his glower in equal measure as I went on, “We swore an oath, twice dooming ourselves for him, or did you _forget?_ Did you forget his final words to us, pressing us not to keep hold of the _kingship_ , but to _keep to our oath.”_

His fists clenched at his sides with the suddenness of bear traps. He sucked in a sharp breath. “ _Dare you?”_ he said, voice dangerously soft “Dare you remind _me_ of that moment? As though I _could_ forget?”

My brother, always so perfectly composed, my brother always only showing what he wished to. Now he was reaching the edge of that control and something within me wanted to push him over it. To _make_ him finally snap.

I held myself back, however. With my tongue feeling like led, the more rational words nearly choking me as I spoke them I said, “Go Kurvo. I do not wish to fight with you. Leave and we may speak of this once we have both calmed ourselves, if you are so inclined.”

“Do not _dismiss_ me, Maitimo-”

“ _Maedhros-”_

“ _Do not dismiss me._ You think it your right to make such a decision on your own without consulting us? You think you have right to turn _our birthright_ to the hands of a lesser house? Atar would-”

“I am not Atar, Kurvo!” I finally snapped, the sheer vehemence in my words causing my brother to pause, only blinking at me as I stood there breath coming hot and fast. With a sharp prickling along my palm I realized how tightly my own fist was balled. “I am not Atar, and I have seen what comes from _trying_ to be!”

Nearly throwing myself back into my chair, I turned pointedly back to my desk, and ran my hand over my face once more, tangling my fingers up in my hair. “Leave me, Kurvo.” I muttered. “We are done here.”

I could feel My brother's eyes boring into me. I glanced back out of the corner of my eyes to see him. The venom in his eyes was enough that I was shocked I had not suddenly found myself staring at the faceless obsidian walls of Mandos. “We are.” he said.

And with those words he turned and left.

The door clicked firmly shut. Not even one to slam a door. A bitter smirk crossed my features. _Always_ in control, our Kurvo was. A glint of light caught my eye just then. That bloody reading stone he'd made for me.

I glared. Reaching down I picked it up, feeling the weight of it in my hand. My fingers clasped shut around it for a moment. The edge of the cold glass dug into my palm and the sudden urge to throw it across the room just to hear it shatter came over me.

I took in a deep breath, and slowly, deliberately, I placed it back on my desk.

_Eru help me..._

~*~

I am not entirely sure what I was doing when I heard the knock at my door. Nose deep in one book or pile of records or another. Or at least attempting to appear to be. I could not get myself quite to focus. Even so, I merely grunted at the sound, only attempting to fool myself further into how 'busy' I was.

The door creaked open. Just a crack. “Nelyo?”

I blinked, hearing the _last_ voice I had been expecting. For an instant, as I turned towards the door and Makalaurë, I felt my expression softening just slightly. Even as it happened, the memories of the past week, all leading up towards this afternoon came rushing back to me. I became as stone once more. I did not raise my voice, but my tone remained brisk as I began, “If you are attempting to persuade me to-”

“No.” He cut me off. Pushing the door open farther still he stepped into the threshold. “That is to say, Moryo came to me earlier with some harsh words on his tongue for you. I know what you plan on doing. But...no. I do not wish to change that decision.”

“Huh.” I stared at him for a moment before turning back to my work. “Come in then.”

He edged his way into the room, hanging on that edge of vision just beyond sight, and I was aware of his presence as though he were an awkward ghost.

“What is it you want of me, Kano?” The words might have come more testily than I had intended. I felt the air between us suddenly prickle.

“I _had_ come to let you know you have my support- _whatever_ you decide to do with it.” Bitter were his words. “I cannot _imagine_ our brothers would have said the same.”

True as what he said might have been, for some reason it made my hackles rise. My shoulders tensed, and I looked up for a moment, not turning to him, but rather staring at the wall before me. “That might have been some consolation had you come earlier, when I had _needed_ that support.”

He gave a sharp snort, “As though you still do not. They will keep hounding you down about this until the crown actually passes to Nolofinwë and is well and truly out of their reach, and-”

“And I will deal with them as the time comes.” Finally I spun in my seat to look at my brother, “I have faced down _worse_ than having my brothers angry with me.”

His lips pressed together under my gaze, his eyes dropping slowly to the ground. He was tugging at the ends of his hair in that same manner he had as a child. “I know.”

I blinked, falling silent once more. Makalaurë shifted in his spot, before he began pacing absently through the room. He had never liked the silence.

My thumb flicked over my knuckles. “I am....grateful that someone at least is not against me.”

“It is, difficult.” He finally said, still pacing, still not looking at me. “Being King.” He paused, “They will still treat you as one, wherever the title goes, you realize. These people here? You have not passed on _all_ responsibility. Nor Authority.”

“I know.” I said, a frown tugged at my lips and my gaze flickered, just for a moment, towards my deak. I sighed, the weight of what they would still expect of me heavy even now upon my shoulders. “I had not intended to.”

“I see.”

I wondered if he did, remembering what I had gone throgh with the others just earlier. Watching my brother move about in the silence I suddenly sighed. “Kano.” I said, “Could you stop that? You're going to wear a hole in the floor.”

He blinked for a moment, before finally glancing back at me. A wary look still lit his eyes, but a slow smile was beginning to tug at his lips. “Me? Hardly. I merely am evening the ground out to ensure that _you_ do not wear in a track between that bed and desk of yours.”

I rolled my eyes waving off his words. Despite myself, I was starting to feel the first spark of hope that I had in weeks.

Sobering somewhat, by brother looked at me then, before his gaze dropped once more. He edged a few steps nearer to me. “We will need to be united if we are to make war upon Morringotto.” He paused, struggling with the words. “And even more so, _we seven_ especially, if we are to keep to our oath-”

“It is fine Kano.” I said, holding up a hand to cut him off. “Fine.”

He frowned, “Nelyo, to leave you to hang-” Seeing the look in my eyes he cut himself short, falling silent only to nod. “The others...they will forgive you in time.”

I snorted. “We will see.”

“They would have ridden into _Angband_ for you.” He insisted, “If I had-”

“Kano. Drop it.”

His eyes had hardened. His lips thinned. But he nodded.

“What I mean to say is, they care for you. We all do.”

The glint of lamplight off of Kurvo's reading stone caught my eyes again. I remembered his last words to me. “We will see.”

His shadow fell across me, and turning back I found him stand just behind me. “ _Whatever_ they do,” He let out a heavy sigh here, as though even acknowledging that he might be wrong was so trying an experience, “You will have me, at the least.” He clamped a hand over my shoulder giving it a quick squeeze.

I felt a genuine smile cross my face. “Thank you, Kano.” I said.

 


End file.
